Musing at the Airport

This week I've decided to write about what was going through my head as I sat in the airport after bidding my parents farewell and prior to boarding a plane to take me back to Uganda to live with my grandparents. 

It had been about year since I first stepped foot in the United States. I had entered via Dulles International Airport and it was in this same place where I was waiting,  ready to make the 3000 mile journey back to Uganda where I was anxiously awaited by aunts, uncles, friends, cousins, and jajja's. (grandparents) The airport was not as full as usual due to the recent 9/11 attacks. Most people were fearful of flying and rightfully so. Had I not been told that the various 9/11 news broadcasts were in fact coincidental reruns of the same movie, my five year old self would most likely be trembling in my boots. My brother and I had attended school for one year in Silver Spring, MD and we were out. Originally, the plan was for us to make a permanent move to the states and live our parents, however. I had made it quite clear to my parents that I had absolutely no intention of going through with this. My adolescent mind still thinking in Luganda was utterly lost in this world of fast talking, colloquial jargon. Among other things the culture and environmental shock was incredible. The wonders I would see on afternoon walks with my mother were endless. Things such as red and orange leaves and ice falling from the sky were inconceivable a little African boy such as my self. I also felt a little uncomfortable being governed solely by a president, where as in Uganda I could breathe comfortably knowing that I was guarded by a king in addition to a president. As a result i was shipped back to live with my jajjas. I wasn't quite sure what my brother felt about the sudden move but as he sat next to me at the virtually empty gate, I could tell that both of us, while confused, were just happy to go back home. I smiled anxiously, one: because I loved flying and I couldn't wait to get on the pane, and two: because I knew that even though I was leaving my parents behind in Maryland, when I arrived at Entebbe International Airport I would be briskly taken to our house Bugolobi, where I could sleep safe and soundly  in the comfort my room, which I shared with my grandparents; and in the morning when I awoke, I would be greeted by the smells, sounds, and tastes of freshly served breakfast which I would indulge in, while sharing with my jajjas (grandparents) the infinite wonders that America had to offer; red leaves and all. There was sense of contentment in knowing that my grandmother and grandfather  would be there for me when my parents couldn't. As the announcement aired Informing us that it was time to board,  I rose willingly, knowing that back home there was a family waiting for me, just as it should be.